


Seidr Legacy

by Coho_Commanche



Category: Avengers, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coho_Commanche/pseuds/Coho_Commanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki gets turned into a baby human female and has his memory wiped to learn a lesson after he constantly seduces Aesir men. Thor decides to take a jaunt down to Earth while his brother is under punishment. Unfortunately, he does not know what Loki looks like, and decides to use the rest of his free time with the beautiful redheaded woman drinking alone. Lily's boy is born with golden blonde hair and glowing green eyes placed on a face that was much too masculine to have been James's. To keep James from knowing she disguises the baby to look like him. What happens when a race long thought extinct remerges from the shadows they had hidden themselves in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Mortals and Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?
> 
> A/N: This is an idea/request from njchrispatrick on FF.net. Go check out the stories he/she has written. Loki will not remember his time as Lily, but will be able to switch back and forth between male and female when he is made immortal again due to a malfunction in the ‘ritual’. This is just the prologue, the actual chapters will be around 5,000-6,000 words, possibly more. My vocabulary is strange; you will be seeing British and American words, and terms at times. There is a reason for bringing forward the Black and Potter blood that will be explained later. There is a poll up for New World, Same problems. Oh God, so tired…finals…dying. Keels over dead.

Full Summary:

Loki gets turned into a baby human female and has his memory wiped to learn a lesson after he constantly seduces Aesir men. Thor decides to take a jaunt down to Earth while his brother is under punishment. Unfortunately, he does not know what Loki looks like, and decides to use the rest of his free time with the beautiful redheaded woman drinking alone. Lily's boy is born with golden blonde hair and glowing green eyes placed on a face that was much too masculine to have been James's. To keep James from knowing she disguises the baby to look like him. What happens when a race long thought extinct remerges from the shadows they had hidden themselves in?

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?

A/N: This is an idea/request from njchrispatrick on FF.net. Go check out the stories he/she has written. Loki will not remember his time as Lily, but will be able to switch back and forth between male and female when he is made immortal again due to a malfunction in the ‘ritual’. My vocabulary is strange; you will probably be seeing British and American words, and terms at times. There is a reason for bringing forward the Black and Potter blood that will be explained later. There is a poll up for New World, Same problems. Oh God, so tired…finals…dying. Keels over dead.

Ok, just to be clear, Harry is not a Metamorph, he is a Shapeshifter. For a while he will seem more like a Metamorph, but in chapter 2 and 3, you will see some animal characteristics appearing. Sirius and James aren’t actually Harry’s parents. Lily just brings forward the Potter and Black genes she passed on to her son to make them more dominant than his real parents’. She needed DNA from the direct lines of Potter and Black, though she wasn’t aiming for the Black line, which was an accident. Think of Sirius and James as close family (brothers or uncles). I want Harry to be a Seidr more so than an Asgardian. That doesn’t mean that he won’t become immortal or a citizen of Asgard. Seidr magic is vastly different than the magic done by other races, so the different types are mostly incompatible.

Feel free to send me suggestions and corrections. I hope that the chapter is less awkward now and more ‘realistic’.

Prologue: Of Mortals and Gods

*Asgard: 1959 Earth Time*

Odin sighed, staring out at the land of Asgard. He did not know what to do about his errant son, a son he had adopted. Loki had to be brought to heel, he needed to understand that his actions have consequences and that he was behaving most unbecoming of a prince, let alone a Prince of Asgard.

Odin turned, staring at the intricate wooden box sitting so innocently on his desk, yet he cold feel the power it contained. He strode over, running his hand over the detailed designs of long extinct magical creatures. Small gems lined the borders, seeming to glow in the light. He placed his fingers under the two latches, and taking a deep breath, flipped them, unlocking the box.

Slowly, Odin raised the lid, gazing down at the potions contained within. There were several, seeing as the box had an expansion charm on it, not that he understood what the Seidr had been saying exactly, but he understood enough to get the idea. One stood out from the others, a delicate pink with swirls of gold. There were several brightly colored potions in the box, but few were as brightly colored. Next to it was a bright blue and silver potion, the antithesis of the pink and gold. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he were to truly teach Loki humility and honor, it would have to be through something drastic.

He needed something that would hinder his magic; that would prevent him from overcoming the potion. He opened his eyes and stared once more at the potion, fingering the crystal stopper.

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Loki looked up at the man who was his father. He sneered at the determined, yet sorrowful look on his aging face. Odin felt like a monster at the moment, he hated himself. He just didn’t know what else to do. He’d talked with his wife, but simply stripping Loki of his magic and for a while and forcing him to do servant’s work simply wasn’t enough. Loki looked down on mortals, especially mortal females, thinking them to be little more than insects. No, something far more drastic had to be done.

“You leave me no choice Loki, this hatred and toying with Midgardian men and women stops now.” Loki frowned, what in was he going to do that made him look so…devastated? He stared at the small vial of bright pink and gold potion in his father’s large, scarred hand. He didn’t like the look of that potion, but could do nothing with the magic suppressing chains on him. He had never seen his father look so conflicted.

“When you perform a truly selfless act, one that is honorable, then and only then shall you remember your past. You like human men, but hate human women. That has to change Loki, and it will…by turning you into a mortal woman.” Loki’s eyes widened in horror. Odin looked away from him, unable to bare the look Loki was giving him.

“No!” Loki lunged at Odin, his chains snapping his body backwards. He crashed to the floor. Loki struggled frantically, far more upset about being mortal than a woman, he was actually quite curious to try that, but he didn’t want to become a weak and pathetic mortal to do it. Odin wanted nothing more than to free his son, to find another form of punishment, but he didn’t know what else to do that would have as great of an impact on his wayward son.

Odin ordered the guards to hold Loki immobile as he pulled out the stopper sealing the potion that the Seidr had given him before being wiped out. They had tasked Odin with protecting the Tesseract in case they were to be destroyed. He still couldn’t believe that they were gone, a race as powerful than the Asgardians wiped out by mutual enemies.

Loki’s mouth and nose were covered, forcing him to swallow the concoction. He stiffened, before seizures tore through his body. Odin began to panic, something he hadn’t done for a long time.

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Pain, pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before. His soul was being torn asunder, his very existence breaking, shattering. The light was blinding, the darkness suffocating.

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Something was wrong; such magic should not induce such pain. Odin panicked, having forgotten one key fact that the Seidr had warned him about. Odin had forgotten to check to see if Loki had anything containing magic on him. He tried to hold his son down to prevent him from slamming his head onto the stone floor. He really hated himself as he saw and felt his son writhe in agony, screams tearing through his throat. Odin felt like crying, which was something he never did. It was his fault that his son was suffering so. He should have found another way, should have done something else to punish Loki. Loki didn’t deserve this.

A glow shone from around Loki’s neck, a curious necklace that looked like an hourglass, yet was cracked, and containing gold sand shone with magic. Odin reached out for the item, convinced that it was the source of Loki’s agony. The moment he touched the strange item, he and the guards were blasted backwards. His hand felt like it was on fire, the skin badly burned. He grasped his wrist, gritting his teeth at the pain. The next thing he knew, he was being blasted back away from his son, and nearly crashed into the wall. He groaned and struggled to get up. That’s when he remembered the magic suppressing chains. He yelled at the guards to remove them.

The guards struggled to remove the chains, managing to one off, but were blasted back by the wave of magic released from the removed chain and cuff. Loki’s screams lessened slightly, but only slightly. Odin struggled to stay conscious, his head pounding.

Loki’s body began to glow, the small spherical object beginning to spin madly. Thor and Frigga burst into the room. Frigga screamed and ran towards Loki. Thor dashed after his mother after taking one look at his father and drawing an accurate conclusion, snatching her up just in time to prevent her from touching Loki. Frigga thrashed in Thor’s arms, reaching for Loki. Odin managed to get to his feet, and staggered, blood dripping from a large cut on his head. His head spun and he feared that he had more than just a cut.

Thor backed up, struggling to control Frigga’s wild thrashing. She screamed as Loki’s body seemed to explode with light, before dying down. His body was gone, along with the chains when the light disappeared, an empty, scorched spot along with a chain and cuff were all that remained. Odin closed his eyes, swallowing back his nausea.

Frigga finally broke free from Thor, scrambling over to where her son had just been. She stared, tears filling her eyes and spilling over as she thought about what had just happened. She slowly turned her head when Odin came closer.

Odin froze, then ran, more like stumbled, from the room when he saw the look his wife was aiming at him. He really didn’t need more injuries. He would let her do what she wanted later, once he knew that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by passing out or losing the contents of his stomach. Frigga took off after him, screaming and cursing, throwing whatever she could get her hands on at him. She relented slightly, but remained absolutely furious, when she saw her husband slump to the floor in front of other Asgardians. Odin clutched at his head and stomach, and groaned. He was terribly pale.

Thor, in a rare moment of genius, fled from the room and castle altogether, wanting to get as far away from his mother as possible. He thought a weeklong trip around Asgard was just the right thing. His own fury at his father could wait, he wasn’t sure that Odin would actually survive his mother’s wrath.

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*January 30, 1960*

Dahlia Evans screamed as another contraction tore through her. She was at some little hospital in England. Her red hair stuck to her sweaty, flushed face.

“One more push, the head is crowning.” Dahlia sucked in a huge breath, grasping the rails of the bed. She pushed, harder than she had ever pushed in her life, wanting it to be over with and the baby out of her. Her husband was wiping her brow with a cool, wet cloth, trying to give her some amount of comfort.

A loud cry split the air, and Dahlia let her breath out in a giant whoosh. She stared at the red, slimy, screaming creature that was a human baby. She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She heard the nurse talking to her, trying to get her to respond, and grumbled moodily.

Her husband brushed her hair from her face lovingly, whispering soothing words to calm her. She smiled tiredly, the pain of childbirth still radiating through her.

“Lily, Lily Evans.” They baby opened her blue eyes, the color yet to be determined. She yawned cutely, before eagerly latching onto the breast being offered to her.

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“What do you mean that we’re related! How long have you known!” Lily’s shrill screech nearly deafened James. He cringed away from his wife.

“I only just found out from Sirius. He found out from his uncle, Alphard.”

“Why do you seem ok with this!” James backed away, putting the sofa between him and his irate wife.

“It’s common among the Purebloods, so it’s no big deal.” That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Lily.

“No big deal!” Lily positively roared, her eyes filled with fury.

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Lily Potter growled in frustration, she had just discovered that she was her husband’s cousin. Her great grandmother had apparently been born a Squib from a Potter and a Black. James had simply shrugged it off, saying that inbreeding was a common occurrence in Pureblood society. Lily had stormed off in a rage, leaving behind a clueless husband.

Lily hated magic at times, sure it was one of the best things she’d had happen to her, but her magic was hard to control and refused to perform certain branches like Transfiguration and Defense in most cases. The simple spells she could do no problem, but spells on the same level as the Patronus were a big no-no. She grimaced as she remembered just how hard passing her NEWTS and OWLS had been. Most charms she excelled at, but Potions and Ancient Runes are where she really excelled.

A pang of regret stabbed her heart. She took a deep draught of the alcohol she was consuming. She regretted the way she had pushed Severus away, how she had never given him a second chance.

She was brought out of her thoughts when a large, strangely dressed, and handsome blond haired man sat on the stool next to her. She looked the Muggle over speculatively, frowning when she had the niggling thought that this was no ordinary Muggle. She stared at him, and he in turn stared at her. She felt like she had met him before, but his was a face and body one doesn’t forget.

“Lily Potter.” She held out her hand, and the mysterious man gently kissed the back of it. She blushed, which on someone with red hair is quite funny looking.

“Thor Odinson my lady.” She giggled, the alcohol finally beginning to affect her. Her bright green eyes sparkled in delight.

“Your strongest mead!” Thor’s voice boomed out over the bar, the patrons gaping at him. Thor looked around, confused. Had he said something wrong?

Lily began laughing, strongly reminded of a clueless Sirius Black in a formal social situation. The Muggle bartender, still giving Thor strange looks, set down the strongest alcohol he had in his establishment. Thor knocked it back, slamming the half empty glass down. Lily gaped at him.

“What is a lovely lass like yourself doing alone on this night?” Lily smiled, showing off her straight white teeth.

“Trying to drown my troubles good sir.” Thor laughed a great booming laugh, head tilted back. By now the patrons in the bar had figured out that the large muscled man was loud and would continue to be so.

Lily and Thor ordered several more drinks, discussing this and that, but nothing of real importance. Lily noticed that the more he drank, the more his strange, archaic way of talking emerged. They eventually left the bar together, Lily stumbling and slurring her words. Lily was glad that she had taken off her wedding ring earlier before Thor showed up.

The two somehow ended up in a motel together for the night. The rest was a blur for the both of them. Thor wasn’t nearly as drunk as Lily, so was able to leave in the early hours of the morning.

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Thor looked down at Lily in regret, he felt bad leaving her so early and without saying anything to her after last night. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, smiling slightly when she murmured and swatted at his hand.

“Stop it James.” Her words were slurred, but not enough that Thor couldn’t understand what she said. He froze, looking at the young woman in horror. She had given no indication that she belonged to another; the foolish woman had tarnished Thor’s honor. He vowed to never speak of it to anyone.

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Lily woke to find herself alone in a motel room she vaguely recalled renting. She rushed for the toilet when her stomach rebelled. A pounding headache fogged her mind, and she stayed on the bathroom floor for a long while. Eventually, her magic kicked in and took care of the dehydration and headache, though that drained her magic reserves. She used a portkey to return to her and James’s home. He wasn’t there, already at work for the day. Lily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, her mind drifting over the previous night’s events.

Gods she felt horrible, some wife she was. She felt sick, so guilty that she didn’t think she could look James in the face. What had she been thinking! Oh, right, she hadn’t been. Lily silently vowed then and there to never drink again. She placed her head on the cool tiles of the shower wall, letting the hot water hit her back.

She paled when she realized that she and Thor hadn’t used protection. Jumping out of the shower, and throwing on a robe, she rushed down the stairs, panic beginning to overcome her.

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Positive, the test was positive. She buried her face in her hands, dreading the future. She froze, a sudden idea coming to her, she could use a blood potion to strengthen the Potter genes coming from her side and then introduce James’s to cement his own. Sure the child would have three parents, but it was better than not having James’s blood at all. In a flurry of activity, she began readying the needed potions ingredients, rushing upstairs to nick some of James’s hair laying around the bedroom.

She could do this, and if the baby still looked too much like the original father, well, she could always glamor the child. She had no idea that what she was doing would also bring forward the Black genes, seeing as one of the hairs belonged to Sirius, who had thought it a good idea to wrestle James awake one morning while Lily was making breakfast.

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Thank the gods James was on an assignment and unable to come see the birth of their child. Even more fortunately, Sirius was sent out with him and tonight was a full moon, preventing Remus from coming. Peter had tried to come, but Lily had nearly killed him, so he was forced to leave. She had never liked the rat.

After several hours of labor, her baby boy was finally born, though she really wished that he had waited a minute or two longer, making him an August baby. She was terrified that Voldemort would target her family now. Dumbledore had stopped by early in her pregnancy to inform them of the prophecy. Since then, the soon to be parents had been overly stressed.

Lily looked down at her son, groaning when she saw that the potion had a flaw in it somewhere. He had a chiseled masculine face that looked to be a cross between the aristocratic Black Family and Thor. James’s features were nowhere to be seen except for the wavy, messy hair, hair that still wasn’t as messy as his, and was blond. The slant of his eyes was from her though, and the eye color had yet to be determined. No matter how much DNA that was from James that she added, the original father’s seemed to override it. Sirius’s poked through, though it was rumored that they carried magical creature blood.

Damn you Sirius Black!

All in all, he was a stunning baby boy. The nurse had remained oddly silent, and Lily took the chance to send a strong compulsion with her wand to stop the nurse from interfering. Lily then proceeded to glamor her son, changing his features to match James’s.

Aiming her wand at the nurse, she shot an Oblivate, one of the only high powered spells she was good at, at her, effectively changing the features of her son and Lily’s recent actions in her mind. The nurse shook her head, confused as to why she was so dazed. “Do you have a name picked out?”

Lily smiled tiredly, helping her son feed. “Hadrian James Potter.” The nurse smiled in response, writing the information down on the birth certificate.

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“Lily, it’s him! Run, take Harry while I hold him off!” Lily didn’t need to be told twice, scooping up her Killing Curse eyed son and sprinting up the stairs, her heart pounding in terror. She slammed the nursery door closed, lunging for the portkey, but nothing happened. Her legs trembled, tears pouring from her eyes. She looked down into the face of her son, memorizing each and every detail.

“Mommy loves you Harry, never doubt or forget that.”

The door behind her blasted open, and she curved her back over her son. Setting Harry down in the crib, she whirled around, arms spread out.

Voldemort looked at the Mudblood in amusement. Her emerald eyes were filled with tears, yet contained a fire that burned brightly. Her lips pulled back into a snarl, her body shifting into a defensive stance. Her red hair reflected the light from overhead, looking like blood. He smirked, glancing at the baby gripping the bars of the crib behind his mother, before she blocked his view.

“Move aside Mudblood and give me the boy.” The woman looked stunned, her eyes widening and mouth opening. He continued to point his bone-white wand at her, sparks emerging from the tip. She stiffened.

“Never!” He looked at her in surprise, his red snake eyes narrowed in anger.

“Move aside now! I am only here for the boy, you need not die.” Lily spat at him.

“Take me, leave my son, take me instead! He’s just a baby, he can’t hurt you!” Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“This is your last warning woman! Move aside!” She continued to plead with the monster, desperate to save her baby. She had no wand and was unable to use wandless magic well. It always drained her, somehow not compatible with her body. She was trapped and both adults knew it.

“Very well then. Avada Kedavra!” Lily flung her magic at Harry, stuffing as much of it as she could into him just before the Killing Curse hit her. Hopefully he could survive now that the ritual was active. Unknown to Voldemort, small painted runes under the baby’s clothing were glowing softly, active and ready to lash out with magic.

Voldemort laughed, watching the Mudblood crumple to the floor, her dull green eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, empty of all life. Her body disappeared suddenly, sucked into thin air with a blinding flash of light as if she had never existed. Slightly unnerved, Voldemort made his way to the baby staring at him defiantly. His black hair had blond spreading through it, Lily’s magic from the glamor being sucked into the runes to help increase their power.

Red flickered through Harry’s eyes, Voldemort missed that though as he was staring at the changes in his hair color. His face changed slightly, but not much, as there was a greater concentration of power in that part of the glamor and took longer to drain.

“Well, well, a little Metamorphmagus. It’s too bad that you would never join me. Goodbye Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort watched in glee as the spell raced from his wand and struck the baby on the forehead.

There was a moment, one that seemed to last an eternity as a lightning bolt carved itself into the baby’s forehead. A bright glow from the hidden runes exploded outward, flinging the Killing Curse away from Harry and back at Voldemort.

Voldemort could only watch in horror and disbelief as his own spell rebounded at him. He screamed in agony as his body disintegrated, not noticing the small part that broke off and shot into the baby.

As Voldemort fled into the night, leaving behind destruction, a fierce battle was being waged between the two souls. Harry’s, while younger was whole and undamaged, unlike the shard of Voldemort’s soul, and thus able to fight the much older soul shard. The runes, with the last of the magic they contained, forced Harry’s and Voldemort’s souls to mesh into one. The glamors flickered, barely having enough magic to remain. They would continue to wear off before disappearing altogether in the coming years.

No longer would Albus Dumbledore be able to have a light, weak willed Savior. No, Harry was neither dark or light, but grey, and he was strong.

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*Asgard*

Loki’s body reappeared in a soundless, anticlimactic wave of magic. The cuff and chain fell off of him, in a warped and twisted pile of metal. He shot upright, confused and sore. He had the strangest feeling that he was needed somewhere else, but brushed it off. He noted in incredulity that the clothes he was wearing were clearly meant for a female, and not a male his size.

The doors to the same chamber he had disappeared from twenty-one years ago burst open. Frigga shot past Odin, gathering her son up into her arms, glaring all the while at her husband. Thor guffawed loudly when he caught sight of the skirt and blouse that Loki was wearing. Odin slapped the back of his head.

“Loki?” Frigga lay a hand on her dazed son’s shoulder, helping him stand. He nearly collapsed again, Thor leaping forward to aid him. They led Loki to his room, figuring that he would be at ease in his domain. Gently easing Loki down onto the large bed, Frigga began checking him over for injuries.

“I cannot find anything amiss, but he seems to be in great pain.” Odin, who had been hovering in the doorway, winced at the venom his wife directed at him.

“Loki, what happened to you after you disappeared?” Frigga ran her dainty hand through his silky black hair, staring at his green eyes dulled in pain.

“I…I cannot remember. No, there was a woman screaming, then a flash of green light, but that must have been an illusion or hallucination.” Odin and Frigga exchanged glances. “There, there was a baby, and a monster with red eyes, but the images are blurred and indistinct.” Loki sounded like he was about to cry.

Frigga hugged her distressed son, rocking him gently, glaring all the while at her idiotic husband. Thor was giving Loki a strange look; he looked confused and alarmed by his normally cold and collected brother’s show of weakness. Loki’s emotions were all over the place, images flashing across his mind that made no sense whatsoever.

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*Back on Earth*

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was heading to Privet Drive in Surry to wait for Hagrid to bring baby Harry Potter to his relatives’ house, not knowing that he had already lost his greatest chess piece.

A tall, strict looking woman in emerald green robes rushed up to Dumbledore when he appeared with a small pop. Her hair, that had once been a reddish brown, was now grey and pulled back into a severe knot. Her thin lips were pinched, making it seem like they were but a thin line.

“Please tell me it’s not true Albus.” Her voice wavered, the emotions she was restraining leaking through. Albus Dumbledore looked at her with grave blue eyes, the trademark twinkle gone.

“I am afraid that I cannot Minerva.” Minerva McGonagall’s hands flew to her mouth, stifling the sob that escaped.

“What of little Harry? Is he…” She couldn’t bear to complete her question.

“Harry Potter survived, Hagrid is bring him here as we speak. Though how he did, I know not.” Minerva seemed to swell with fury.

“Here! No, Albus these are the worst Muggles I’ve ever seen! You can’t leave him with those monsters.” Luckily, Dumbledore had the foresight to put up a privacy ward.

“Lily’s sacrifice has created powerful blood wards that will protect him from outside harm.” If Dumbledore thought that that would appease his Transfiguration Professor, he was gravely mistaken.

“What about from the inside Albus!” He winced at her shout.

“I am sure that Lily’s sister would not mistreat her own flesh and blood.” He was only digging a deeper hole for himself.

“Are we thinking of two different Petunia Dursleys? The one I saw and have heard about would stoop so low.” Dumbledore gave Minerva a disappointed look.

“He needs to grow up away from the fame that he has unknowingly gained.”

“Then put him with a family like the Tonks, they won’t let Harry get a big head. What are you going to do about training him, the Death Eaters and sympathizers will come for him and those he cares about someday. Are you planning to leave him untrained?” Her arms were crossed, eyes flashing in fury.

“It is for the best. I will not be swayed on this matter Minerva.” Her nostrils flared, and he suddenly realized that he was going to have to remove Minerva’s memories of the Dursleys and where they live, not to mention this conversation.

The roar of a motorcycle interrupted their argument. He too the opportunity to shoot several spells at Minerva when she was distracted by the approaching motorbike, making sure that his body would be blocking Hagrid’s view.

The bike was massive, a good thing because the person riding it was even more so. Hagrid pulled off an odd pair of goggles, reaching over into the sidecar for a blue bundle.

“Evening Professor McGonagall, evening Headmaster Dumbledore. Little tyke’s still awake.” As Hagrid got off the motorcycle, it rose up from the ground some now free of the immense weight. Minerva was shaking her head, trying to clear it of the fog clouding it.

“Hagrid, where on earth did you get that…thing?” McGonagall was staring at the motorbike in fascination. Hagrid looked back at the bike before answering.

“Young Sirius Black told me to take it and get Harry to safety.” McGonagall huffed at the mention of one of the most notorious troublemakers ever to have been inflicted on Hogwarts.

Dumbledore gently took the precious bundle from Hagrid, peering down into accusing green eyes. His eyes widened when he saw the blonde hair that was overtaking the black and the facial features that were definitely not James’s.

“Hagrid, was Harry’s hair like this when you found him?” Hagrid looked startled.

“Blimey! The lil tyke’s hair ‘as changed more.” Minerva, intrigued by the conversation quickly made her way over to see what all the fuss was about. She gasped when she saw that the baby’s hair was more blonde than black and his face much more different from what she had last seen.

“Albus, what could have caused this?” Dumbledore waved his wand over the baby, grinning when he saw the results.

“It is nothing to worry about, he is simply a budding Metamorphmagus.” Little did Albus know was that the spell was picking up on the Shapeshifter gene and not the Metamorph. Minerva gasped in surprised delight.He began to cast a long and complicated spell. Minerva gave him a sharp look.

"What are you doing?" Albus didn't look up.

"I am binding the Metamorph magic so that he can safely be around Muggles. I will remove it once he can control it outside of school." Minerva gave him a suspicious look, but backed down. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, he wasn't able to bind just the magic he wanted, mainly because it wasn't Metamorphic magic at all. 

She then caught sight of an angry, red and swollen scar on his forehead. Dried blood marred the luminescent skin.

“Is that where…”

“Yes, he will have that scar for the rest of his life, such is the consequence of being touched by dark magic.” Minerva made a strange sorrowful sound in the back of her throat. Hagrid was crying big fat tears, which disappeared into his bushy beard. He bent down, placing a whiskery kiss on his forehead.

Luminous glowing green eyes regarded the adults in a haughty, superior manner. Dumbledore had to restrain himself from glaring at the child. Letting Minerva kiss the baby as well, he hurriedly walked up and placed the baby on the front doorstep of Number 4. Privet Drive. He placed a letter he previously written inside the folds of the blanket.

“Good luck Harry Potter, you’ll need it.”

Dumbledore swiftly made his way back to Minerva and Hagrid, waiting until the others had departed before leaving the Muggle neighborhood as well.

It would be 10 years before Dumbledore realized he had made the greatest mistake of his life in leaving Harry Potter on the front doorstep of his only living relatives on Earth.

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Heimdall squinted, the fabric of space rippling as Loki tore through it, he caught a brief glimpse of a child with a lightning bolt scar and glowing green eyes, before it was hidden. He frowned, disturbed that there was something out there hiding from him, something right under his nose at that.


	2. Early Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m stuck on From the Shadows chapter three, if you want, I can post the chapter as is (3000 words or so). Do you want shorter chapters and faster updates, or vice versa? There’s a poll up for a different story. If any of you are wondering why Harry isn’t acting like a young child or thinking like one, remember that the Horcrux contained Voldemort’s memories and personality. This is going to have a huge impact on Harry, not to mention that he never really has a childhood, or is even treated like a child. I blame magic for the impossibilities. Some child abuse to support the plot, so watch out, it’s in the first part of the chapter and in the flashback. 
> 
> No, Harry won’t be evil per say, some will see him as evil, but he’ll just be cold to the point of cruelty at times. Well, at least until some manage to worm their way past the ice encasing his heart. Think a slightly more sadistic/darker Sherlock Holmes. Speaking of which, do you want Harry to do the whole deductions thing? I’m leaning towards making him more like Sherlock. He will be a genius either way. After this chapter, things will slow down. I plan to have Harry go through his Hogwarts years. I’ll have time skips, but the rest of the story won’t be like this chapter where there are multiple years in a single chapter. 
> 
> All right, I’ve adjusted the timeline so that Harry will be seventeen during the alien invasion. Lily and James were much older when they had Harry. He was born in 1995. What do you want me to do about the Deathly Hallows? 
> 
> *Spoiler*
> 
> Voldemort will be defeated before Harry meets his parents. He will be sixteen when he defeats Voldemort and seventeen when he meets his parents.
> 
> *Spoiler*

Chapter Two: Early Years

Four-year-old Harry Potter curled into a miserable ball. His stomach snarled, sounding like a ferocious beast. He shivered as his uncle guffawed at something on the telly. Silent tears streamed down a battered and bruised face, vivid green eyes filled with pain. He lay there on his measly excuse for a cot in the cupboard under the stairs. He hadn’t meant to talk to the snake, it had just happened.

Many strange things happened around him, things he couldn’t explain. One time his hair had turned blue and green, before reverting back to its original color. His hair, once containing a moderate amount of blond, was now a stunning gold that looked fake. It was straight and fell into his green eyes, making him look absolutely adorable. Another time he had shoved Aunt Marge’s prized bulldog, Ripper, clear across the kitchen when it had a go at him. He never made that mistake again.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the one that occurred daily: healing. His uncle had pummeled him to what most would consider the fine line between life and death. The next day he was perfectly new, sore and tender, not to mention stiff, but no broken bones or horrendously bruised body. Uncle Vernon had just done something similar, and already the pain was fading.

Despite not getting much food, he was taller than the average four-year-old. He was often punished for that as well, as if he could help how tall he was. Dudley was very vocal about how it wasn’t fair that his freakish cousin was taller and far stronger.

Harry shifted, turning onto his side when his ribs had finished mending. He stared blankly at the wall, thinking back over all of the strange things he had done. Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew that his lot in life was very wrong, but he was only four-years-old, so there wasn’t much he could do to change it. He froze, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Magic, was he performing magic?

Excitement coursed through him, and he looked more closely at his memories, recalling that he was both emotionally unstable and determined when the magic occurred, well, except for the snake and hair changing color incidents. A grin stretched his mouth, the first to have ever graced his face since his parents were killed.

Harry began focusing; trying to recreate the tingly feeling that preceded an outburst of magic. He was slightly depressed when he couldn’t do so, but was determined to succeed.

He continued to try and find his magic for hours, and just as he was about to give up, felt the slightest tingling sensation. It was lost when his uncle yelled at something on the telly, and anger surged through him. Harry lay there, fuming that his uncle once more ruined something for him. Hate, an ugly and dark, bitterly cold hate crept through him. His jaw and hands clenched, his nails biting into his palms.

He hated his family, loathed them with a passion that was terrifying. He stiffened, a malicious grin that had no place being on a child’s face, stretched his lips. Magic, magic was the key. If he could learn to harness it, to control it, then he could finally get revenge, and he would be able to protect himself.

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“Boy!” Harry’s shoulders stiffened, hunching inwards. He slowly turned his head to face his uncle.

“Yes Uncle Vernon?” His walrus of an uncle grunted at his tone, not liking the icy, emotionless quality being directed at him. He looked away from the boy’s eyes, not able to look into the glowing orbs.

“We’re leaving the house today, and you are to stay out of it until we return, is that clear?” His menacing voice had little effect on the child, that he could see at least.

“Yes sir.” Grunting, satisfied that the freak wouldn’t dare to defy him, he made his way over to a horse and baby killer whale masquerading as humans. His aunt and cousin quickly got into his uncle’s company car, and they sped off, paying no mind to the small child pulling weeds in the garden under the sweltering hot sun.

Harry snarled, and frost began forming on the ground around him. His ‘family’ only succeeded in making him hate them even more, if possible. He actually felt sick sometimes due to the strength of his emotions. He wanted to watch them suffer, to cower away from him in fear like he had done so many times.

{What troublessss you young hatchling?} Harry glanced down at the small green snake, reeling in his magic. Once he managed to locate what he calls his core, keeping his magic under control suddenly became almost impossible.

{My relatives.} There was no need to say any more on the matter, the small snake knowing all too well what the human hatchling meant.

The small snake and Harry made idle chitchat as he continued to weed the garden. After another hour of work, the little boy dressed in rags dashed off into the forest. He had always loved the peace and safety of the forest, it being the one place his relatives dare not tread.

Tall deciduous trees rustled softly in the gentle wind. The harsh sun was filtered through the leaves, leaving the area cool, but not too cold. Harry smiled, a true smile as the wind tousled his golden hair. He sat at the base of a tall oak, its rough bark pressing through his ratty clothes. Harry sat for a while, before making his way deeper into the forest. There was a small stream that he could attempt to clean himself with. It was small, far too small to fit his body in, so he would have to make due.

The cool water felt amazing on his burning skin, the dull pain lessening. He sighed in contentment, finally able to just relax. He was hungry, but that was nothing new. He put as much of his head into the stream as he could, vigorously scratching his scalp. Keeping his eyes closed, he pulled his head out of the stream, shaking it to help get rid of the water He acted more like a dog than a child in that moment.

He stripped off his ratty clothes, cleaning them first, then laying them out to dry. His trainers that were falling apart were abandoned next to the soaking wet clothes. Wandering further upstream, he began washing his body, having grabbed his shirt and used that to wipe off the grime. Sure he had to rewash the piece of cloth, but he was much cleaner than he would have been able to get if he had just used his hands.

Flopping onto his back, Harry closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself for his core. Darkness pressed in on him at first, before he suddenly found himself in the library he had created in his mind. He was constantly working on it, the memories and emotions methodically being categorized and stored. Books represented his memories, and his emotions were in the flickering fire he always kept lit. The fire itself was made of many colors, blending and mixing, with the one he was feeling the strongest being the dominant color at the time.

Harry ignored all of this though, and pressed onward, heading towards the fire in the room. He paused on the middle of the large carpet covering part of the floor. Couches and chairs surrounded the area, the fire dancing merrily in the massive fireplace. The room itself was constantly changing colors, his mood affecting it just as much as the fire showed.

He stared down at the intricate carpet, admiring the detailed work, before pressing his hand down on it. The soft fibers gave way under the pressure of his hand, cushioning it.

{Freak.} Harry gave a sardonic sneer at the choice of password. He had the feeling that there were others like him out there, and didn’t want tot risk any being able to reach his core. So, he chose a password that none would guess, and used Parseltongue to say it. According to the snakes he had come across, only he and another could speak it. Besides, if he could occasionally read minds, he was sure others could as well.

He glowered at the very solid blocks keeping him from his magic. He had managed to break through the smaller ones, but the pathway he had created only went around the main blocks and was far too small for his magic to get through all at once. He had been hammering and chipping away at the largest two, leaving the smaller of the three alone for now, wanting to focus on getting his magic through to help him first. The magic that he had freed was wild, and hard to control, leading him to creating his mindscape to help control not only his magic, but his emotions as well in the process.

With a soft whoosh, the carpet disappeared and he fell through the floor. He fell for what seemed like an eternity, yet was used to the feeling by now, after a year of experience. A glow in the distance steadily grew brighter, the silver light radiating outward. Wisps of blue, black, purple, green, and gold flashed through it. There was the occasional red, but it was less common than the black. It only appeared when the black grew, forcing it to intertwine with the other colors. The purple radiated out from the black, glowing softly, gently compared to the aggressive feeling of the black. The red felt every bit as aggressive as the black, but lacked a malevolent feel to it.

From the purple, blue branched, turning into a vivid green that matched his eyes. The gold came next, the second most prominent color, it weaved and twined all around the other colors, helping the red force the black to comply. White-silver came next, varying from a dark silver-grey to the almost blinding white-silver. They melted and blended together, swirling and dancing with each other. The colors all glowed, some more brightly than others, but they all had a ghost-like quality to them.

Harry smiled, slowly reaching out for his magic, the ice surrounding the area, cocooning him. The magic eagerly leapt at him, the black more so than the others. The first time his magic did that, he’d freaked out and fled, not daring to try and get near it for several days after that. The next time he encountered his magic, he was more prepared, and didn’t flee. He’d only flinched horribly as the tendrils slithered over him, sinking into his skin.

Now, he eagerly embraced his magic, letting even the black wrap around him. The red was flaring, ready to lash out and push back the black, but this darkest part of his magic had quickly learned that to do anything other than sink into, or rub against him meant being forcefully pushed back.

Harry didn’t mind the black, it was a part of him after all, albeit a steadily growing and more powerful, not to mention malevolent, part of him, but still a part of whom he was. The black felt old, ancient at times and also alien, it was during such times like that, that he wondered if the magic was really his, or if it was from someone else.

The blue playfully weaved around his fingers and hands, while the purple snaked up his leg. The green and black laced around the main part of his body, though the black seemed to concentrate more around his head. The silver, as usual, engulfed him, drawing him into the center of his core. The gold batted at the black, the red creeping forward when it went to touch his eyes. The green was the only color allowed near his eyes, he idly wondered if that had something to due with his eye color. The black always tried to brush against them, but always failed. It gave up after being rebuffed, not wanting to lose out on a chance to grow stronger and influence its host more.

Magic was sentient, having a mind of its own that sometimes contradicted what its host wanted. Harry was one of the few that knew this through his own observations and experiences with it. The black was particularly aggressive and manipulative, not that Harry really cared, seeing as it was the first to respond to him, forcing the red and gold to interact. The blue and silver came next, the green and purple following. Once he actually began interacting with his core, ice began forming in the surrounding area. After that, he started having issues with freezing things accidentally. He’d gotten pretty good at manipulating water and ice.

This time something was different though. After a little over a year of sinking into his core and practicing magic, he noticed sparks and shadows dancing around him. The shadows eagerly clung to the purple and black, while the sparks clung to the gold and white-silver. He poked at one of the sparks and yelped when it zapped him. The green wrapped around his finger, the color he associated with healing. He glowered at the sparks. The shadows were interesting, slipping through the strands of magic and wrapping around him like a cloak.

Small, elegant swirls of black and blue began dancing over his skin, glowing ever so softly. He watched, entranced as the shadows sank into him, dragging the sparks along. His skin began sparking, electricity curling around him.

In fact, the black managed to sneak in with the shadows, hiding among them. Harry felt a massive surge of energy, and gasped as he noticed the black was much smaller. He looked down at the electricity, only to see what looked like black shadowy flames tinged purple and blue dancing around him. He felt no heat, only the same icy presence that he always felt.

Harry closed his eyes, relishing in the power surging through him. His eyes shot open, determination gripping him. He would show his relatives, he would show them who was in charge. Red flickered only briefly in his eyes, gone almost instantly.

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Since that hot summer night one year ago, the now six-year-old Harry Potter lounged on an actual bed in his own room. He had commandeered the guest room after terrifying his relatives into submission.

***Flashback***

_Harry flew into the wall when his uncle tossed him. His head cracked against it, his vision blurring. Something dark was rising under his skin, the same feeling he attributed to the black magic, growing. His uncle wrapped his hands around his neck, squeezing. Harry gasped silently, frantically clawing at his uncle’s meaty hands. Dudley was cheering on his father, while Petunia smiled maliciously. Harry’s magic boiled, furious at its host’s treatment. The restraints against it began to strain, the blocks placed on him by his parents and then strengthened and added to by Dumbledore under their request, straining to keep back the rising tide of magic._

_The smaller and weaker blocks and restraints had long ago failed, but the larger and much stronger ones remained. Harry had diligently been chipping away at the blocks, tiny cracks and holes appearing. Now, those small cracks and holes began to widen, the black magic slamming against the blocks ferociously. The other magics were more hesitant, not wanting to cause more harm than good in forcing the bonds to cave. The purple, white-silver, and blue joined, shadows and electricity seeping though the holes and cracks. The black magic, having wormed some of the way through the block, began thrashing, trying to weaken the block from the inside as well._

_Then the ice joined, entering and slowly forcing the gaps to widen, weakening the structure. The first block trembled, and then shattered, Harry’s magic surging to the next one. This one was slightly thinner, but lacked as many holes and cracks as the previous one had. The black magic was once again the first to wriggle through, not caring for such things as subtlety or finesse. The second wall shattered not long after, the other magics joining the black magic as it hammered away at the thinnest wall, but one that had no cracks or holes at all. In little time, Harry’s magic burst through the last binding, and violently lashed out his attacker._

_LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE_

_Harry had only two more seconds before he passed out from lack of oxygenated blood to his brain, but it was enough for his magic to lash out. Uncle Vernon was sent flying into the living room, slamming into the couch, which moved several feet and flipped over from the force. His uncle lay there, dazed for several moments. Harry took deep gasping breaths of air, black dots swimming in his vision. His head throbbed and sparks danced over him. The lights in the kitchen flickered, and his aunt and cousin were screaming, rushing over to Uncle Vernon._

_Harry pushed himself up off the floor slightly and rolled over, vomiting, his stomach heaving as he tried to get his nausea under control. Had he not had magic, he would have been unconscious at the moment. His uncle gave a roar of rage and charged at Harry’s prone form. Harry barely managed to roll out of the way of a poorly aimed kick. His uncle hadn’t seen the small puddle of vomit, and slipped when he stepped into it._

_The entire floor shook with the force of his body crashing into it. Harry grabbed at his magic, forcing it to heal him and give him the energy and strength to fight back. He was done being the whipping boy, done being the slave. He had magic; he was stronger, better than his family._

_Unsurprisingly, the black magic eagerly came to his aid, boosting his aggression and hate. The green magic worked on the injuries, while the rest of it pulsed, ready to lash out. Ice rapidly formed around him, the temperature dropping suddenly. Harry scuttled away from his flailing uncle, scrambling to his feet unsteadily._

_“I’ll kill you boy! You hear me freak!” Harry flinched, then snarled, his anger boiling over. Harry was unaware of it, but his eyes turned red, the pupils turning into slits. He glared murderously at his ‘family’. They cowered from the change._

_“Funny, that’s what I was going to say.” His voice was hoarse, and he wheezed._

_“How dare you, you little freak!” His aunt’s shrill scream made him wince. Dudley was cowering behind his mother, which was actually rather humorous. Harry inhaled deeply, and gathered his magic. His uncle had managed to get to his feet by that point and swung his fist at his nephew._

_Harry raised his hand, and the sparks eagerly, with the black magic’s guidance, turned into something far more deadly. Lightning tore across the kitchen floor, licking at Uncle Vernon. While it didn’t do more than burn him and give him the nastiest shock of his life, the ice was far more insidious. It crept up his uncle’s legs, trapping him to the melted floor. The room smelled strongly of ozone, and the electronics in the house were sparking and smoking. Harry grinned savagely, the cut over his right eye closing, leaving the skin looking like nothing had damaged it, though the blood that had come from it told a different story._

_His uncle’s eyes were wide, and his shirt charred. Luckily for Harry, the smoke alarms had been included in the electronic massacre. “You will give me the guest room, you will give me as much food as I want. You will not touch me, you will let me do whatever I want.” Harry didn’t yell; there was no need. Between his magic and red eyes, he was plenty terrifying. Dudley and Uncle Vernon had pissed their pants if the smell was anything to go by. Harry wrinkled his nose at the pungent scent._

_The bruises faded from Harry’s body, but the intricate designs on his hands and arms spread. Gathering his magic, Harry repaired the floor, only just managing to stay on his feet. The amount he had used was far too much, and he was about to collapse. Giving his terrified relatives one last sneer, he left his uncle trapped to the newly repaired floor by ice._

_Harry calmly walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs before he let his body stager into the wall. He practically dragged himself to the guest room, his lungs straining and vision blurring. He felt like all of his strength and energy were suddenly sucked out of him, leaving him hopelessly weak. Fumbling with the doorknob, he stumbled into the room, closing and locking the door, which fortunately had a lock on the inside, before actually crawling to the bed, his legs having given out._

_Hauling himself up onto the mattress was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He vaguely registered his magic weakly pulsing through him, finally free of the bocks and restraints put upon it, before letting darkness claim him._

***Flashback End***

He felt little in regards to emotions these days, his icy exterior having crept inwards on him. He idly levitated the desk in his room, setting it down gently. He gazed at all of the books surrounding him, ranging from chemistry and physics to psychology and anatomy/physiology. He was fascinated by the human body and planned to be a doctor when he was an adult.

Harry had long ago learned to read people and use his magic to heal. First on himself, then moving on to wounded animals. He now had several animal stalkers, snakes and birds being the most prominent. There were dogs and cats, along with several other species, but the snakes seemed to simply seek him out for no apparent reason.

A ball of ice formed in his hand, and he melted it with a thought, those strangely colored flames leaping to his will. He had discovered that the flames came from some sort of avian creature lurking about his mind, flitting away or bursting into flames when he got too close. A large snake was often curled up in front of the fire in his mind, where it came from he had no idea. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the bugger. The strange markings on his arms had grown, only appearing when he used his magic.

Experiments lined the room in various stages, and several snakes were curled up on his bed, or his body. He was known as a freak by the rest of the neighborhood, but he didn’t care. He had little use for their small-minded opinions. He idly stared at the door, bored. An idea occurred to him. It would be greatly beneficial if he learned to protect himself in ways that didn’t require his magic.

Harry scooped the snakes off of him and hopped out of bed deciding that he should research forms of physical protection.

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One Year Later (age seven)

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickled, his magic warning him of approaching danger. Harry increased his pace slightly, wanting to get back ‘home’ without having to use his meager martial art skills. He ground his teeth, annoyed that he had decided that he wanted to walk home after stopping by the library on his way back from his lesson.

Harry turned abruptly, cutting around the corner of a building, glancing at the reflections on passing or parked cars. He saw Dudley and his gang following him. Dudley looked like he wanted to be anywhere but near him. Harry cursed, knowing that he could only run, or try and fight them off. He was stronger, much stronger than he should be, but taking on so many at one time was still not a good idea. So he ran, throwing caution to the wind. He kept thinking that he wanted to be in his room and not running away from bullies.

A strange feeling washed over him, the shadows cast by the trees in a park he was cutting through enveloping him. He felt like he was floating for several seconds, the world around him blurring, before falling onto his bed.

Harry lay there stunned for several moments before excitement coursed through him. He rushed over to his desk and began writing everything that led up to and occurred during his teleportation experience down feverishly.

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Harry strolled out of the house the next morning, determined to recreate the teleportation from the previous evening. He had his notebook and a pen with him, ready to record anything and everything.

He had done this with many of his experiments, the most infamous being when he attempted to break something down into atoms, that hadn’t ended well. He’d nearly blown his head off, his magic rushing in to save him from certain death in the nick of time. His hair and eyebrows hadn’t escaped the small explosion, not that he cared really; they grew back in minutes.

Harry spent several minutes going over the exact sequence of events from yesterday, and began to try and figure out what the trigger for teleportation was. He clearly remembered a strong desire to be in his room.

“Ok, so intent is obviously involved in the trigger, but that’s true for all of my magic. No, there had to have been something else.” Harry paced back and forth, scribbling his thoughts down.

“Destination! I was clearly picturing my room, more specifically my bed at the time, but is that enough to trigger teleportation?” He somehow doubted that those two things were the only parts of the trigger.

“I’m missing something, but what?” He continued muttering, ignoring the wildlife flocking around him.

{I don’t suppose any of you would know?} The snakes looked at him, then each other, before looking back at him again, shaking their heads.

“Figures.” He plopped down on the ground, back against a tree, allowing the snakes to slither over him.

“Determination, destination…Application! I had to apply my magic along with my will power and the image of the destination all at the same time, retaining focus during all of it!” His shouting startled the animals, but Harry paid them no mind, already scribbling away his answers. He gently moved the animals off of him, and moved away from them.

“All right, now to put it into practice.” He set his notes down and closed his eyes, picturing the other side of the forest across from him. He might as well start small and not run the risk of messing up and leaving a body part behind or something.

Harry felt rather stupid just standing there, so, location and will at the forefront of his mind, he gathered his magic and spun on the spot. He knew immediately that something was wrong. Harry felt like he was being sucked through a narrow tube. He couldn’t breathe and felt like he was being crushed. Two sharp cracks split the air, one as he disappeared and the other as he reappeared. He fell flat on his face when his body reappeared where he had pictured. He moaned, rolling onto his side and clutched at his stomach, fighting down the nausea that gripped him.

“Note to self, don’t spin, it obviously does some other form of transport.” He belatedly remembered the shadows engulfing him last time. Harry moaned again, partly in anger and partly in misery.

“Urgh.”

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Age 9

Harry’s sharp eyes inspected his face from every angle. He pulled out a ruler and measuring tape, checking his face with both.

“Hmm, my jaw has grown more angular over night. What is causing this?” True, Harry’s jaw had changed, but it was almost impossible to even spot with the measuring tape and the ruler. He jotted down his observations in his notebook dedicated to his body. He had been recording the amount of time it took for various cuts to heal the other day.

He looked at the various inventions littering his room, and smiled smugly. Oh the looks on his relatives’ faces were ones that he would treasure forever. True, he had no need of jewel encrusted goblets or precious metals and stones, but the intense looks of greed, terror, and jealously were well worth the mind-blowing effort he had to pour into making such items.

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June, 2006 (age 10)

Boom!

“Bloody hell!” Harry dove to the side, throwing up a shield to protect himself from the magical backlash. He had somehow gotten the idea into his head that attempting to turn water into rum was a good idea. He glowered at the smoking goblet, which was more of a twisted heap of metal than a goblet now.

His stomach growled and he sighed, knowing that in order to keep his magic strong, he needed to eat. Grumbling, he jotted down the new data and his observations, before trudging down the stairs.

It was midmorning and he was just in time to see the mail get shoved through the mail slot. He stared at the letters, debating if he should get them or not. He went to pass by them when his magic suddenly stirred. Now, normally Harry would just ignore it, but the black magic was urging him to check the mail. He knew that for it to be telling him something other than to hurt someone, that it must be important. So, deciding that it couldn’t hurt, he summoned the mail and began sorting it.

He froze when his eyes alit on a peculiar letter, a letter addressed to him. 

The rest of the mail fluttered to the floor, forgotten as Harry reverently broke the unusual seal on the parchment. A strong sense of déjà vu gripped him, arising from the black magic.

With the first sentence, Harry’s life changed forever and set in motion a grand sequence of events that would become the stuff of legends.


	3. Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Unless others complain, chapters will be shorter, but more frequent. I have summer school (physics) coming up and am studying to make sure that I don’t fail. Plus I’m working. I’ve changed the prologue (which is now being called chapter one as well.) I’m working on the stories that I have inspiration for right now, so no; I’m not abandoning the others, or putting them on hiatus. The poll is still up. Next chapter is about Diagon Alley.

Chapter Three: Explanations

Harry stood there, staring at the letter in disbelief; he completely ignored Dudley when he came to get the mail. Harry was more than a bit disturbed by the address on the envelope.

_Parchment and green ink? Who the fuck uses that sort of thing nowadays?_

He looked at the large wax seal made of red wax that bore a shield with four different animals: a lion, badger, eagle, and snake, with a large H in the middle. He liked the snake and eagle best. Breaking the seal, he opened the letter, glancing one last time at the address on the front of the envelope.

_Mr. H. Potter_   
_Second Largest Bedroom_   
_Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_   
_(Order of Merlin; First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, & Member of the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW).)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_   
_Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry glanced over the enclosed list, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

_Where the fuck was am I supposed to get all of this shit? What the fuck did they mean by ‘we await your owl’?_

He had a sneaking suspicion that they meant an actual owl. He narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore’s name. Dumbledore had far too many names and titles. Self-important, the man must be self-important.

Dudley froze at the sight of his demonic cousin staring at a letter as though it held all of the answers to the universe. He gulped; snatching up the letters and bolted back to the kitchen when he saw the look of anger begin to form on the freak’s face. Dudley dashed into the kitchen, eyes wide with fright.

“Dudders, what on—.”

“Did. You. Know?” The three Dursleys froze, staring at the miniature demon masquerading as a human in the kitchen doorway.

Harry’s face was twisted in fury, his hand clenched around the letter, knuckles white. Aunt Petunia’s eyes locked onto the shaking letter in his tight grasp. She, if possible, paled even more. Uncle Vernon looked at the letter as well; now a nasty greyish color rather than his trademark purple. Dudley had tossed the mail on the table and was hiding behind his mother, once again displaying how few brain cells he actually had.

Claws began to form, and his teeth sharpened slightly. Harry was unaware that these changes were only going to grow as he aged. The changes disappeared not long after, leaving Harry feeling suddenly tired.

“Y—ye—yes.” Aunt Petunia stuttered, flinching as the light bulbs began to explode.

“Tell me everything.” The two adult Dursleys shared a look, pale faced and trembling.

“Diddy, why don’t you go play in your room.” Dudley didn’t need to be told twice, and scurried out of the room as fast as his fat legs would allow him.

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“My sister was a witch, as was her husband.” Petunia’s voice was trembling, barely able to be understood. Harry sat in a kitchen chair, leaving his back to the wall. He stared at his aunt, arching a brow.

“Sh-she always did freak—odd things. Flying off swings, causing flowers to bloom in the winter, many things.” Petunia’s eyes were looking at some long past memory, glazed and unfocused.

“Then the letter came.” Her eyes snapped to the parchment on the kitchen table. Something ugly flashed through her eyes. “From the moment she opened it, she was no longer my sister.” Harry didn’t react, keeping a tight leash on his magic. Vernon was red faced, puffing up in righteous anger.

“Our parents were so proud of her, buying her everything she wanted and acting like they too had received letters.” The bitterness in her voice grew, and Harry was left without a doubt that his aunt was being eaten by jealously.

“That boy was so smug.” Harry perked up. Boy, what boy? “Severus Snape, a nasty little boy with a black heart. He hurt me with his magic once; he dropped a large tree branch on my head. Oh, Lily was so mad, but she forgave him.” Petunia spat out. Harry decided that he would try and locate this Snape fellow.

“Were they good friends?” Petunia had a sour look on her face, well, more sour than usual.

“They were as thick as thieves. They spent almost all of their time together, trying to become even bigger freaks.” Vernon nodded his head, agreeing with his wife. He sneered at his freakish nephew.

“They left, going off to the school for freaks, only coming back for the holidays and leaving as soon as they were over. Every year she became more and more of a freak, forgetting her family in the process.” Aunt Petunia was staring at Harry’s letter, fury etched on her face.

“Then she met that Potter boy, and left the family for good.” Aunt Petunia was slightly exaggerating of course. She didn’t know that Lily had left to try and protect her family. “It wasn’t long after that that you were born.” Here she paused and shot a sharp look at Harry that left him completely unruffled.

“Then they went and got themselves blown up! We were saddled with you, your freak kind leaving us no choice but to take you in. That Headmaster, Dumble-something, left you on our front porch sometime during the night of November first, with only a letter and blanket!” Her screeching by all rights should have shattered the glass in the room, but by some miracle didn’t.

Harry tensed, sending his aunt a withering glare in response to her latest admission. So Dumbledore was responsible. Harry decided that he hated the man. Petunia wilted under the icy gaze burning into her. Vernon went to yell his own opinions, but a nasty shock from Harry’s magic changed his mind. He settled for making odd faces that were meant to be insulting, but looked ridiculous on his face.

“Where is this letter?” The two adult Dursleys tensed, not making eye contact with the freak.

“I burned it.” Harry stood abruptly from his chair, and the temperature of the room plummeted.

“You. Did. What?” His voice ripped into the petrified Dursleys like shards of ice.

“I—I bur—burned it.” Her voice was but a whisper, and Harry’s normally blank face contorted in fury.

“What was written?” He was standing in front of the Dursleys now, arms crossed and eyes turning red.

“The Head—Headmaster thought it a good idea to pawn you off on us for protection. He said that Lily created some sort of blood ward thingy that would protect us from harm so long as we took you in and you considered this your home. He threatened us with magic, and said that he would bring you back if we tried to get rid of you. He said that he would know if we did within a day.” Her voice was trembling with fear and fury.

A slow smirk curled Harry’s lips. A devious plan began to percolate through his brain; one that he decided would be one of his best. “So, so long as I call this place home, I have to stay here?” The two Dursleys nodded warily. “How…convenient.” Harry would wait and see what other options he had before effectively kicking himself out.

Harry turned away from the terrified Dursleys abruptly, conjuring a pen and piece of paper from thin air. He sat back down at the table and began to write.

_Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_

_I graciously accept your invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I am afraid that I know nothing about the world of magic. I was shocked to learn that such a thing exists. My relatives have proven to be less than helpful, and I will need someone to guide me to the place I need to go to buy my school supplies. I am also unsure of how my parents died._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Harry read over the response and nodded his head. Standing, he paused, not knowing what to do next. Fortunately, luck was on his side today. A large owl started pecking at the window, prompting Vernon to shout in alarm and Petunia to shriek in terror. Rolling his eyes at his idiotic relatives, he strode over to the window, and opened it. The owl hopped inside, not having a screen in its way. Harry stared at the owl blankly, and held out the letter, feeling rather foolish. The owl hooted and took the letter in its beak, before turning and launching itself out of the window. Harry smirked when he spotted several neighbors peeking at the house in curiosity. No doubt that tongues would be wagging over the owl.

Harry knew that he could do nothing more than wait at the moment. Shooting a disgusted look towards the kitchen, he trudged up the stairs.

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Minerva McGonagall sighed in dismay. Her desk was covered with parchment. Albus had pushed off several of his duties onto her in the past month for reasons she was unaware of. He would be getting an earful, that was for sure. A tapping noise on her left drew her attention and she glanced over at the closed window. Grumbling, she hauled herself out of her comfortable chair and walked stiffly over to the window.

Normally, she would just open the window with magic, but she had been sitting for so long that she needed to move around for a bit. The owl dropped the letter from its beak, giving a hoot of hello before flying off to the Owlery.

Minerva paid the no attention though, far to preoccupied with staring at the letter in shock. Fury shot through her, and she stormed out of her office. The portraits called out to her, asking what was wrong, but she ignored them all.

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sucked absentmindedly on a lemon drop. His phoenix familiar Fawkes was pecking at a treat, making soft noises of contentment. Dumbledore stared at the spinning and smoking instruments on his shelves, noting that nothing had changed. The portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts looked down at him in boredom.

Harry Potter was attending Hogwarts this year. He would have to send Hagrid to retrieve the poor boy. Dumbledore had a bad taste in his mouth as he thought of the torture he had condemned young Harry Potter too so many years ago. He just couldn’t risk Harry going dark or be spoiled and subsequently become arrogant due to his fame. No, Harry had to desperate for affection and approval. He, Albus Dumbledore, would be seen as his hero, rescuing him from his horrible relatives. Dumbledore firmly ignored the little voice whispering that he had made the worst mistake of his entire life. Nonsense, he was Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Gellert Grindelwald and Leader of the Light. No, he had done the right thing.

He had little warning before an infuriated Minerva McGonagall stormed into his office.

“Albus Dumbledore! You have some explaining to do!” Dumbledore looked at her in confusion and dread.

“I am terribly sorry my dear, but I have no idea what you are talking about.” His calm and jovial voice only enraged her further.

“Explain this!” Banishing the letter onto his desk, she folded her arms, foot tapping impatiently.

Dumbledore picked up the paper, noting that the writing seemed far too much like Tom Riddle’s had. If he didn’t know better, he would say that this was Tom Riddle’s handwriting, but Voldemort would never lower himself to using Muggle paper or ink. Dumbledore read over the letter, paling as the words registered in his brain. This didn’t sound like a child desperate for affection and approval. No, this sounded like an independent and strong child.

Severus Snape chose that moment to enter, and almost gaped at the sight of a furious Minerva looking ready to eviscerate the Headmaster. Minerva whirled to face him, her nostrils flaring. “Severus, the Headmaster is an idiot.” Severus actually gaped this time. Had he just misheard what she said? Judging by the look of absolute fury on her face, he had heard her perfectly fine. Dumbledore glared at McGonagall.

“Severus my boy, perhaps you could go get Hagrid and tell him that I want him to take young Harry to Diagon Alley?” Minerva blew up at that.

“No! Absolutely not! If anyone is to go, it will be Severus or myself!” All of the other professors were either busy or unavailable to fetch Harry. Albus scowled at her, frustrated that she was suddenly displaying such backbone again. “Hagrid isn’t a professor Albus; he is not allowed to guide students into the magical world!”

Severus had taken a step back, wanting to flee the room and avoid McGonagall’s wrath. He also wanted nothing to do with the Potter brat unless it involved humiliating him. Albus looked like he too was about to start yelling. Severus decided to just leave them to it. Fate had other ideas though.

Just as Severus had turned and started to walk out of the office, Minerva grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, you are coming with me.” Severus gave her a fierce glare, and began winding himself up for an argument. Minerva summoned the letter Harry had sent and shoved it at him. Snape sneered at the aging witch before reading it. He breathed in deeply through his nose, and looked at McGonagall with ominously glittering black eyes.

“Very well. I know how to find them.” Minerva looked delighted, while Dumbledore looked horrified for several reasons. One was that he couldn’t go, seeing as he was far too busy with his official duties. The second reason was that he couldn’t get out of the paperwork he had been putting off, the type of paperwork that he couldn’t pawn off on Minerva and would take hours, if not days to get through before due. Finally, he couldn’t risk having Snape influence Harry away from Gryffindor, or McGonagall meddle and help the boy become even more independent. He had no idea how Severus could find out where the Dursley and Harry lived, but he sounded far too confident to be bluffing.

This was a complete disaster.

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Harry stared morosely at the wall, wondering how long it would take for the letter to arrive at Hogwarts. He flopped back on his bed, the snakes hissing in displeasure. He ignored them, too focused on his thoughts. He sighed, and considered tormenting Dudley, but a knock on the door downstairs jolted him out of his thoughts. He practically flew out of his room, only slowing down at the top of the stairs to make sure he looked unruffled and emotionless, in other words; badass.

Petunia opened the door, curious as to whom it could be. She took one look at the two freaks on the porch and tried to slam the door shut. Severus was faster though, and placed his foot between the door and its frame. He smirked as he forced the door open, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the terrified woman.

“You! Get out! Out!” Petunia seemed to have overcome her fear as her hate for Severus bubbled to the surface.

“Now Tuney, is that anyway to greet an old acquaintance?” Severus smirked maliciously as Petunia cringed at the hated nickname.

“Tuney, now that _is_ something.” The three adults tensed and Petunia made a strange squeaking sound before fleeing from Harry’s sight. Minerva and Severus felt chills go up and down their spines. The boy looking down at them looked dangerous, like he was a monster hiding in human skin.

“Who might you be young man?” Minerva thought the boy looked like James, but his face was more angular and his hair golden blond, not to mention tamed. The boy smirked at her and Severus.

“Pardon my manners, Harry Potter at your service.” Severus hissed out a shaky breath, and Minerva gasped, hand clutching at her heart. He gave a slight bow. Potter was tall, far taller and more muscular than any eleven year old should be. He had an aura of danger and darkness around him, and yet, something drew them in, like a moth to flame. His magic was both painful and soothing, terrifying, yet safe.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter. I am the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, students call me Professor McGonagall, Severus here, is the Potions professor and is addressed as Professor Snape.” Harry went very still all of a sudden. Snape felt like his soul was being laid bare as Killing Curse green eyes pinned him like a bug. Harry felt like laughing. Oh, fate and luck must be smiling down on him right now.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, we received your letter and we are here to take you to Diagon Alley. But first, I believe we need to explain a few things.”

Harry gave a slow nod and descended the stairs, looking every bit a royal humoring his subjects. A prince, yes that was the air that surrounded Potter, a prince. Severus didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ll show you to where we can sit.” Harry led them into the kitchen, then to the living room, where Petunia had taken shelter. She froze, then practically ran from the room. Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her, she’s rather jumpy.” Harry sat in the only chair in the room, leaving the two professors to either stand or take the couch. “Tea?” Severus curled his lip and stood next to the couch, while Minerva gratefully sat down. Harry allowed the two professors to have their fill of horrifying pictures featuring Dudley at various ages. One could track his age by his weight far more easily than his features.

“No, thank you though.” Severus didn’t have to say anything; the expression on his face said it all.

“My cousin.” He made a broad gesture around the room, his eyes not leaving the professors once. They soon lost interest in Dudley’s mentally scaring photos.

“Ah. Your parents, they, well they were wonderful people.” Severus snorted and Minerva glared at him.

“James Potter was nothing more than a bully Minerva.” McGonagall looked like she was going to start cursing Severus, but managed to rein in her temper. Harry kept his face blank, though the temperature seemed to have dropped slightly.

“As I was saying, your parents were wonderful people. Your father loved to make mischief and pull pranks. Your mother couldn’t have been more different. She was a stickler for rules and thought your father to be an ‘immature toe-rag’ for many years. They were Head Boy and Head Girl, which forced them to actually work together.” Here McGonagall gave a wistful smile. “I believe that it was this, and your father finally beginning to mature, that softened Lily towards him. They married right out of Hogwarts, and your father’s best friends stuck with them.” A sudden dark look passed over her face. Severus looked like he was vindicated of some claim he had made.

“Your parents went into hiding towards the end of the war along with the Longbottom family. V-Voldemort was the Dark Lord who had started the war. He was killing people left and right. There was little hope of him losing the war.” She paused, tears gathering in her eyes.

“He suddenly decided to target both families. No one knows why, well, except for Albus Dumbledore that is. Your parents were betrayed and he came to kill you on Halloween of 1995. He tried to kill you after killing your parents, but something went wrong and you survived. You became famous for two reasons: the first is that you destroyed V-Voldemort and stopped the war; the second is that you survived the Killing Curse. No one but you has survived a successfully cast Killing Curse, yet you did, and it rebounded as well. Nothing but a solid object can block it. Because of that, you are known as the Boy-Who-Lived.” Harry stared at her, his stony face revealing nothing of the inner turmoil he was feeling. The temperature of the room continued to steadily decline, enough so that it was abnormal.

“Your mother’s body was never found, but I can take you to their graves if you would like.” Harry’s eyes sharpened.

“How do you know she is dead then?” This time it was Severus that answered.

“It is believed that her body was destroyed in the magical backlash that destroyed the Dark Lord’s body as well.” His voice could freeze hell it was so cold. Harry stared at the ceiling, his hands resting on the arms of the chair loosely.

“You seem to be taking this well.” Severus’s voice was full of suspicion. Harry glanced at him briefly, before staring at the white ceiling again.

“My aunt told me enough. Besides, you would have to be an idiot to not realize that all of the strange things you can do are anything else other than magic, that or in deep denial.”

“I see.”

“Hmm.” Harry suddenly pierced McGonagall with glowing eyes. The two professors blinked, having sworn that they saw scales ripple under his skin for a few seconds. “If you tell me where Diagon Alley is, I can get there myself. Where is the bank that I can extract money from that my parents have left me?” The two professors looked at him in surprise. “Our world is hidden from what I have gleamed and the likelihood of the currency remaining the same is fairly low. My parents would have left me some sort of inheritance, or trust fund for school until I come of age when I am eighteen.”

“Seventeen.” Harry arched a brow.

“So the age of majority is also different then.” Severus, despite himself, found the boy to be intelligent and far too Slytherin. By the sour look on McGonagall’s face, she too realized that Potter was more of a Slytherin than a Gryffindor.

“I am afraid that we cannot allow you to wander around Diagon Alley unsupervised Mr. Potter. There are still those who want you dead, mainly Death Eathers, V-Voldemort’s followers, running about. It is also highly unprofessional to let a new witch or wizard try and integrate into the magical world without a guide.” Harry felt like lashing out at the woman. He tightened his grip on his magic, forcing it to back down. The dour man that he had a sneaking suspicion was one of these Death Eaters. It was just a hunch, but his instincts were never wrong.

“How unfortunate.” He didn’t clarify what he was referring to. “I am ready to leave at any time professors.” The room was so cold that their breath was beginning to mist as it left their warm bodies. Severus couldn’t believe the brat was so powerful. He didn’t have a very good grip on his magic apparently. Minerva was thinking along the same lines as the Potions Professor.

The two professors exchanged significant looks, very much aware of the dangerous boy observing them like a predator its prey. Minerva suddenly had a feeling of foreboding. She wondered if this was what Dumbledore felt when he delivered a young V-Oh for goodness sake Minnie!-Voldemort his letter. McGonagall had found out by accident when she asked Albus about what happened to Tom Riddle when he left Hogwarts. She had never liked him and knew he was just the type to join Voldemort. Imagine her surprise when she found out that Voldemort and Tom Riddle were one and the same.

Severus was unaware of this little fact, the Headmaster not deeming it important enough to make him aware of. He should have, oh the Headmaster really should have told Severus Snape.


	4. Magic...and More Magic

I haven't looked over the chapter, so expect mistakes. If I can make the chapter better, please let me know. So tired… Oh, the reason Harry isn't simply using or depositing the valuable metals and stones he made/summoned is due to how difficult they are to make. He would have used them if he didn't have much money from his family that he is to inherit. Check my profile for the status of chapter updates. Sorry this took so long!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter Four: Magic and…More Magic

Harry gave the Leaky Cauldron a narrowed-eyed stare. He wasn't impressed at all with how filthy the place was. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of smoke, alcohol and sweat bombarded him. He glanced at Snape and nearly snorted as his face contorted into a sneer. Several people looked over only cower away from his look, not paying any attention to his companions. Harry decided that having Snape around would prove to be hugely beneficial in regards to being left alone.

He followed the intimidating Potions Master and admired how his cloak flared out menacingly. He thought that it made the man look more like a bat. As he passed a dark corner of the bar, the black part of his magic surged suddenly. He froze briefly, and his eyes searched the shadows.

He felt a prickling in his eyes, but was unaware of how his eyes were changing. Rather than normal round pupils, they were now slits, much like a cat's. A dark shape with an odd looking head began to take shape rapidly, until he was able to see a all and gaunt man with a purple turban glaring hatefully at him. Harry had the strangest urge to hiss at the man. He quickly looked away when his fingers and teeth began to tingle shortly before changing. He poked at the sharp fangs with his tongue and glanced at his slightly longer, but much sharper looking nails. He glanced around only to see that they had stopped in a dingy looking alley of some sort. He was pleased to note that neither of the professors had noticed the odd changes, though McGonagall's nose kept twitching and she looked around in slight confusion.

"Remember the pattern Mr. Potter." It sounded like it was physically painful for Snape to grit out the 'Mr.' part. Harry gave him an unimpressed and icy stare. Snape shivered and rapidly tapped the bricks with his wand. Harry's intense and formidable focus and mind latched onto the rapidly receding brick wall. He allowed none of the awe or excitement to show.

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Severus Snape knew that when the brat showed absolutely no emotion to the sudden expose of Diagon Alley, that something was horrendously wrong. Oh, he knew before this when he first met the boy that something was grievously wrong. He was far, far too much like the Dark Lord. Now, oh, now he was acting just like a young Tom Riddle in the memory the owner of the Leaky Cauldron had given to Albus when he first saw Diagon Alley.

Severus closed his eyes briefly. How had things gone so wrong? How had the boy become such a cold and unfeeling young man? Potter was no child, Severus wasn't going to delude himself about that, no, the boy may be young, but his mind certainly wasn't.

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Minerva McGonagall wanted noting more than to march into the Headmaster's office and scream bloody murder at the old man. She was furious and terrified of what Albus's choices might have wreaked and the fact he thought they were a good idea. Such a sweet baby Harry had been, now nothing remained of that once boisterous and warm baby. She resolved to do everything that she could to encourage him to open up and let others in.

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Harry glided into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, not particularly excited about having to robes. At least they were the open style from what he could see as a pale blond boy with a pointy face stood being fitted for school robes. The boy had to be a student. Harry thought the kid looked like a blond ferret.

As the door opened, a small brass bell tinkled, announcing their entrance. The boy's eyes lit up as he spied Snape stalk grumpily into the store. Snape gave his godson a brief nod in return to the excited smile tugging at his young lips. Harry narrowed his eyes and looked from one to the other suspiciously. The two didn't look anything alike, but the way the boy was looking at Snape suggested great familiarity. McGonagall's lips pursed at the sight of the boy, leading Harry to think that she probably wasn't fond of the boy's family, unless she knew the boy already.

"Hello Professor Snape." None missed how the boy completely ignored Harry and McGonagall. Said woman gave the boy a disapproving look as he didn't bother to greet her and Harry.

"Just a minute deary. I only need to finish up with Mr. Malfoy here. Hop up on the stool while you wait." Harry swiftly stepped onto the small wooden stool. I was short, but wide enough so that there was little risk of him tumbling off due to a lack of balance. One would have to be horrendously clumsy to fall off without trying, or having something slam into you. Nymphadora Tonks as Harry would later learn, was notorious for having zero balance and was the clumsiest person to ever grace Hogwarts. Apparently she wasn't allowed to stand on the stool.

Harry noticed the boy, Malfoy he reminded himself, was giving him a confused and calculating look. Harry arched a brow at him in question. The boy narrowed his eyes and was about to say something when he jumped and turned to snap at the woman when she accidentally jabbed him with a sharp pin.

"Ow! Watch where you poke that thing!" He snarled at her, pale face twisting in anger.

"Now, now Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure it was an accident." Everyone could clearly see just how badly the blond prat wanted to do something, the what Harry didn't know, to McGonagall for reprimanding him. Harry wasn't surprised that Snape didn't react at all and simply looked bored. Madam Malkin looked upset, but didn't dare say anything that might make such a high profile customer more upset.

Madam Malkin remained silent as she hurried to finish Malfoy's robes, not making eye contact with anyone. Harry glared at the magical measuring tape as it flitted about his body like a demented humming bird around flowers.

"Hmm, that's all, you can hop down now." Malfoy gratefully stepped off the small stool, and sneered as he stalked out of the store.

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Harry wandered further into the menagerie, trying to locate the snakes. Professor Snape was following him while Professor McGonagall was peering at the cats. He glanced at the reptiles, barely restraining a snort at the things the snakes were saying. He knew better than to get one with his professor present, so looked to see if there was one he could come back later for. Snape narrowed his eyes to slits and crossed his arms.

"The owls are several shops over Mr. Potter." Harry looked at him coolly, his eyes icy.

"I am aware. I was simply curious." With that, he continued to observe the snakes, and he noticed one was staring back just as intently. He felt a small smile of satisfaction curl his lips when the snake slithered up to the glass. It was a beautiful specimen. The scales were black with silver and Killing Curse green markings around the edges of the scales. The eyes were silver and blue and full of curiosity as the snake cocked its head slightly. Yes, he had found the snake he wanted. Giving the animal a small nod, he turned around and marched out of the store, making his way to Eeylops Owl Emporium. His professors leading the way as he looked around in apparent boredom while really he was feeling excitement.

He had barely taken a step inside when a flurry of white feathers assaulted him. He instinctively raised his arm to protect his face, trying to twist away from the feathery menace. He knew better than to use magic in front of witnesses whose minds he couldn't tamper with easily or at all.

The owl grasped his arm, flapping its wings to balance itself. Its large amber eyes regarded him with a look of reproach. He stared at the large avian without any emotion showing on his face, never once blinking in their staring contest.

"I'm so, so sorry!" A harried shopkeeper rushed up to them, twisting his hands and shuffling from foot to foot in apparent worry. Harry felt annoyance rise in him as the man continued to profusely apologize. He grit his teeth and glanced at an equally annoyed Severus Snape. McGonagall looked less irritated with the balding wizard, but if the man continued, she too would find herself tempted to silence the man with magic. Again, Harry lamented the fact that he was unable to use his magic. Once he had a wand…well, things would be different. He still remembered the looks of shock on his professors' faces when he wandlessly summoned the money needed from the entrance of his Trust Vault. They had informed him that wandless magic was extremely difficult. Not wanting them to know that he could do more than summoning things, he played dumb and stated that he was only capable of summoning things. They seemed to have readily accepted his bold lie.

*Flashback*

Harry gave the cart a dubious glance, questioning whether it would actually keep its passengers inside of it.

"So, we have to ride in a cart with no means of keeping ourselves inside of it?" The Goblin smirked at him, dark amusement shining in his beady little eyes.

"Oh yes Mr. Potter." Harry gave his professors a pointed look, as if to say 'What the hell is wrong with this world?', they didn't look amused.

"Right then." He marched forward, and positioned himself in the very middle of the cart, leaving his professors to box him in. He grabbed onto the cart as best he could, glowering at the Goblin as he sat in front of Harry. He wasn't upset about the Goblin sitting in front of him, no what he was upset about was the cart's lack of safety features.

Harry took a deep breath as the cart rumbled forward. He tightened his hold when the cart suddenly shot forward as though out of a cannon. He grit his teeth, distracting himself by memorizing the turns. It was very challenging due to the speed they were traveling and the sheer number of twists and turns.

Harry whipped his head around when he saw a sudden burst of flame. He began going over possible causes in his mind absentmindedly. The wind was whipping his hair all over the place, a fate that the professors were not afflicted with. He scowled.

After what felt like an eternity of hell, the cart screeched to a halt. Harry fidgeted as he waited for Snape to get out of the cart, debating briefly whether he could survive crawling over him to get to the solid stone platform. Taking a quick look at the dour man's face, he concluded that to attempt crawling over him would end up with the man using him as potion ingredients. Luckily for Harry, the man seemed even less fond of the cart and had wasted almost no time in exiting the cart. Of course, this took slightly longer than was bearable due to balance issues. Thus Harry's suicidal thoughts.

"Key please Mr. Potter." Harry repressed his start of surprise, and maintaining a blank face that unnerved all those present, handed over a key. He was still pissed off that Dumbledore had the nerve to keep his own money from him. The Goblin plucked the key from Harry's fingers, and scuttled over to the massive metal door.

"This is your Trust Vault Mr. Potter." Harry slowly turned his head to stare at Professor McGonagall with a flicker of delighted surprise.

"Oh?" She nodded and gave him a hesitant smile, not sure of how he would react.

"Please Minerva, the boy doesn't need a bigger head than he already undoubtedly has." Harry, McGonagall, and even the Goblin all stared at Snape in shock. Had he really just said that out loud and in front of Harry? Anger and resentment boiled in Harry, and his magic threatened to lash out in retaliation. He reeled it back in with difficulty, but it was free just long enough to cause frost to start forming on the stone platform and their breath to mist.

"Severus Tobias Snape! How dare you!" Harry fought a snicker at the sight of Snape cowering ever so slightly away from the irate woman. Hmm, she truly looked like she might just start breathing fire. "I have had enough of your comments over the years about Mr. Potter, and I fail to see how it is wrong of me to inform Mr. Potter of things he should have been made aware of as a young child!" Her shouts echoed around them, sounding as though there were several angry Minerva McGonagalls present.

Snape sneered in response. The Goblin, having lost interest, went back to the task at hand and simply opened the massive door. Harry cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this later?" A loud silence filled the air, but Harry didn't mind, he was to busy inspecting the contents of his vault.

Deciding to come back to the bank later on his own, Harry forwent interrogating the Goblin about his inheritance and holdings and simply summoned a random, but large amount of gold and directed it to a pouch he had requested Professor McGonagall to charm in such a way as to make it able to hold large amounts, yet remain the same size. He still wasn't able to do that very well. She had given him a stern look when he asked and informed him that it would only be temporary. When she told him that by temporary, she really meant that the charm would last for several days, he had actually grinned. The look of shock on her face was something he would never forget. What she didn't know was that Harry was overjoyed at finally getting his hands on something that could very well crack the mystery of making things bottomless. He was even more delighted to hear that there was a way to make the charm permanent, but hat required a large amount of magic. He was not to be deterred though.

When Harry heard the gasps of surprise, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It sounded like he wasn't supposed to be able to do that then. He closed the bag as the last of the gold flew in and turned around with not emotion on his face. He wanted to groan at the nonplussed reactions the adults were wearing. All three had paled and looked like a feather could knock them over.

"How did you do that? " The question burst from Minerva before she could contain it or make it more eloquent. She noted that the young boy simply regarded her with emotionless and icy green eyes the same shade as the Killing Curse. Harry shrugged and looked at the bag in his hand.

"I've always been able to do that, but that was the first time it did exactly what I wanted it to." So that was a lie, a huge one at that, but it wasn't like they knew that. Snape didn't seem to believe him, but apparently disliked him enough to deny Harry being able to use Wandless magic. So, he grudgingly accepted the lie, if only to ease his mind and not wallow in jealousy.

*Flashback End*

"I'll take her." That shut up the annoying man for about three seconds, which was good thing, otherwise he probably would have snapped and done something horrible.

"Are you sure? She's—." Gods the man needed to be silenced. Supremely irritated with the man by this point, the air temperature dropped dramatically. He struggled to contain his irritation at being questioned.

"Yes." The man squeaked at his hissed word and bolted away from him, much to Harry's satisfaction. The owl ruffled her white feathers as Harry walked briskly to the counter and glared at the now cowering man.

Severus Snape couldn't restrain the shiver going down his spine as the air cooled and Potter seemed to become more and more like the Dark Lord than was comfortable. Minerva seemed somewhat shaken, but brushed it off more easily in her ignorance. Severus had wanted little to do with the Potter brat before hand, now he wanted to be nowhere near the boy.

Severus shivered at the way Potter hissed out his confirmation. It reminded him of the way the Dark Lord would hiss out words. Minerva had paled, having heard Voldemort's voice before and knew that Harry Potter had sounded just like the monster at that moment.

Harry looked down his nose at the trembling man, which was an impressive feat considering he was shorter than the older wizard.

"I would also like the necessities for an owl." The man dashed away, not seeing Harry's look of dark and sadistic amusement that flashed across his face briefly. "I'll take that cage and stand over there." The man turned to look at where Harry was pointing. "I also want owl treats."

The man froze as he was levitating down a large curved black wrought iron cage with some sort of white wood in the place of some of the bars. Harry squinted at the wood. If he didn't know any better, which he did, then the white wood was carved driftwood. He smiled bitterly. Oh, how he wanted to see the ocean. He had always been left behind when his relatives went on vacation, and once he took control of his life, they stopped doing such long distance trips, much to his displeasure. He hadn't done anything about it due to the fact that any outing that he went to with his 'family' became more of a nightmare and seeing the ocean wasn't worth the migraine.

A matching stand made of the same wood came floating out next, and he noticed that it too had some wrought iron around the base and twisting up the sides like vines, eventually forming a holder for a food and water dish. He was pleased with the choices and he allowed a satisfied expression to bloom on his face.

The shopkeeper let out a sigh of relief when he saw the pleased look on the boy's face. Child the boy may be, yet he was one of the scariest things he'd encountered. Much of this was due to him being afraid of a child in the first place. How humiliating.

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Harry watched as Hedwig flew to the top of a building and stared down at him haughtily. He smirked. Trust him to pick out the most arrogant bird possible. He was quickly distracted though when his gaze landed on the next and last stop of the day: Ollivanders.

Excitement built in him, his magic surging forth. He strode quickly after Snape and nearly shivered at the sudden influx of magic that washed over him as he entered the shop. He felt incredibly small in comparison all of a sudden. He felt like he was in some sort of holy place or something. The magic from the wands created a heavy sensation in the air, pressing down on his small form.

Harry had a split second to register someone trying to sneak up on him when a voice rang out. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you Mister…Potter?" His statement turned into a question as he got his first good look at the Boy-Who-Lived. He frowned and rushed over to the register that had 'Harry Potter' lit up. He sighed in confused dismay. Well the rest of their world was in for a shock.

"You seem to be surprised." Ollivander looked at the boy staring at him with a small fire in his otherwise icy eyes. He shivered, there was something about those eyes. He looked at the mostly blond hair with a raised brow.

"I was expecting you to look more like your father and not a distant ancestor from either your mother or your father." Harry looked at Ollivander; at least he assumed this odd man was Ollivander, sharply. He didn't quite know how to feel about not looking like his father. "But that is not what you have come here for, so on to business." Harry nearly snarled as yet another annoying magical measuring tape began to become more and more invasive. He was about to snap and incinerate the thing when Ollivander snapped at it to stop.

Harry watched as the man with hair resembling Einstein's made his way over to Harry with several wand boxes.

"I take great pride in my wands Mr. Potter, and can remember every wand I've ever sold. Your mother had 10¼-inch willow wand with phoenix feather, excellent for charms and quite swishy. Your father favored a slightly more powerful wand of mahogany, 11-inches, with a griffin feather. It was one of my more unusual wands. The wand chooses its master Mr. Potter." Harry gave the wand being held out to him a greedy glance, which actually showed for several seconds on his face.

Gingerly taking the wand, Harry stood there and felt incredibly stupid. "Well give it a wave or a flick." Flicking the wand, Harry threw it at Ollivander when the counter caught fire. It was hastily snatched up off the floor when he failed to catch it in surprise and slight horror.

"No, no, definitely not griffin feather. Here try this one, dragon heartstring in oak." This time the man's hair turned blue. Grumbling, Ollivander reversed the magic and continued to hand Harry wand after wand. Harry wanted to pull his hair out by the time the crazy old man ran off into the dark and dusty depths of his store. Harry was very much aware of Snape's burning glare drilling a hole in the back of his head in a silent fury. Harry didn't blame him. It didn't help that Ollivander seemed to become more and more excited and lively as the number of rejected wands grew.

"Hmm, an unusual combination. Phoenix tail feather and holly, 11-inches, most unusual, but not as unusual as some." Harry warily plucked the wand from Ollivander's fingers, and sucked in a harsh breath. He stared, ice melting in his gaze as he looked on in awe at the brilliant show of sparks. Ollivander looked slightly intrigued and worried, which had Harry immediately on guard.

"I'll take a wand holster in black dragon skin please." Ollivander began muttering to himself, and gave Harry a piercing look. Harry was growing irritated when the man finally decided to speak.

"As I said earlier, I can remember every wand I have ever sold, every single one. It just so happens Mr. Potter that the phoenix tail feather within your wand was one of two feathers, and the other resides within the wand that gave you that scar. Oh yes, yew, 13½-inch with the second feather. A most powerful wand, had I known what it was going out into the world to do…" He trailed off, eyes sad and slightly guilty looking.

Harry's hand clenched on his wand and the temperature fluctuated within the room. "I see." He said nothing else.

"I expect we will se great things from you Mr. Potter, after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did terrible things, terrible, but some of the greatest magical feats ever seen." Harry felt a rush of pride and excitement at the prospect of performing such magic. Yet, in the back of his mind, he realized that him receiving the brother wand to Voldemort's was more than mere coincidence.

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Minerva sighed with relief as a wand finally chose Mr. Potter. They had been looking for Harry's wand for the past hour and she was tired of having to deal with the results of wands rejecting Harry. Severus looked like he was about to snap and storm out. She didn't blame him.

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August 31st

Harry couldn't sleep. He glared at the clock displaying the time. It was now 4:30 in the morning and he still hadn't fallen asleep. He growled in annoyance. He'd better be able to nap on the train or he'd be a right monster. His stomach tingled and he felt all jittery. He knew that it was due to excitement, but he still couldn't sleep dammit! Someone would pay.


End file.
